Dawn Of The Aakacarns

by John Buttrick

  Jubal laughed at the thought. “Then it is better for your appointees that I am not among them, considering how I dealt with the last pack of wolves that nipped at my heels.”

  Roddy sat back in his chair, threw his head back, and roared with laughter. When he settled down, his countenance became serious. “Imhotep and his builders will soon head downriver to begin work on Semidon. I only ask that you and Vashti keep doing what you have been doing so well and leave the rest to Semi and I.”

  Jubal stood up. “It will be as you say.”

  Vashti stood beside him. “We are moving to one of the larger abandoned houses built by Imhotep, not only to live, but to accommodate the larger classes and Jubal’s workshop. Be assured we will do what we do best.”

  Jubal guided his wife out the door, hoping to get her away before she could make any comment that would cause trouble between her and Semiramis.

  -----

  It took three days for Roddy to finishing composing the Aakas they had talked about, including the one to command the great cats, Leader of the Pride, which Jubal just finished playing. The ones yet to be heard were Potential, Status, and Ranking. The last two Melodies seemed to have the same purpose; to determine the amount of power the individual could wield, but why?

  The two of them were alone in the Instructor’s study, a large room with a desk and four standing lamps. The triangular dwelling had many rooms and plenty of widows, but not the one Jubal chose for his private study. The chamber had no windows, for privacy reasons, which made it the perfect place to hear and record new Aakas. Jubal sat on a padded chair behind the desk and Nimrod sat in an equally padded chair right across from him. Tanned leather skins, dye, and a stylus on the surface occupied the space between them.

  “It has occurred to me,” the Aakasear began to say, “We have both fulfilled our dreams. I am the ruler of all men and you live in a pyramid.”

  “True, but this one is made of limestone rather than rubies.”

  Roddy laughed. “And they say my dreams are grand.”

  “Mine seem to be fancies while yours are attainable goals,” Jubal replied while trying not to stare at Roddy’s forehead as the man chuckled and began the next Aaka, Potential.

  Dead center, above the Aakasear’s eyebrows, was a jade trident with a lightning bolt lying midway across the shaft. In spite of the distraction each note was recorded precisely on the tanned-leather sheet. The man had come into the study with the image on his skin, so had to have received the mark after performing one of the Melodies in private. Right after the first complete run through, Jubal’s indigo hue burst forth even though he had summoned no potential, and then the light vanished.

  Roddy put down his flute. “That is what it does; causes every Nephilim in sight of the performer to glow. It is the quickest way to weed out an Anakim at birth.”

  Jubal would have used the word, determine, rather than, weed, to describe the process but recognized the effectiveness. “Potential will prove very useful and save a lot of time.”

  As he had done with, Leader of the Pride, he performed the Aaka as written. At completion, the Aakasear’s particular shade of yellow shined brightly, demonstrating the accuracy of the recording.

  Roddy nodded his head approvingly and then touched the trident. “You have not asked about this?”

  “I would have gotten around to it. Some people like to ink themselves, but the image on you is not the color of Jade, it actually looks like Jade. Does it feel hard as stone?”

  Nimrod shook his head. “It feels like the rest of my skin. I am about to perform, Status, which caused this mark to form after assessing my strength. I trust you to record the notes accurately and so do not require you prove your work, unless you want a trident on your forehead for the rest of your life?” He chuckled, obviously knowing the answer, and did not bother to wait for one. “It is a status symbol and I know you care little about such things.”

  Jubal rubbed his forehead while imagining a jade trident resting in that spot for the rest of his life. “I’ll pass on that. Thanks for the warning.

  Nimrod performed the piece, the notes were recorded as heard, but the man did not gain another trident, nor did the one on his head change in any way, even though he had glowed with potential. “I did feel it assessing my level of strength, so the Aaka worked, but clearly I have not grown more powerful since the last time I performed Status.”

  Jubal nodded his understanding, but was curious. “By what standard does your Aaka judge the strength of an individual to be?”

  “I also wondered when you would ask me that as well,” Roddy replied and then threw his hands out wide. “The most powerful display in all of creation is the lightning bolt. Actual bolts may vary in strength, but I have made it the standard. Since I had no idea how many bolts of power we may possess, I imagined categories for each level and a trident of jade, amber, bronze, silver, or gold to mark the status of the individual. This Melody need only be cast one time by or on the Nephilim to be assessed. The trident will change colors as the person grows in potential.”

  Jubal understood how useful the Aaka would be, but still did not fancy having a mark on his forehead. He noted Nimrod had no other markings even though he had obviously performed each new Melody in private before showing up to have them recorded. Evidently, Ranking did not leave a mark. “What you have created will no doubt be well received, especially by Ra and the others who relish having their mightiness made known to all. What of your other Aaka for assessing strength, why did you compose a second tune having the same purpose?”

  Roddy’s chest puffed up with pride. “I knew you and many others of similar thinking would not want the trident on your foreheads, so was inspired to create an Aaka that would assess your strength in a different way, yet without displaying the result in such a fashion.”

  Jubal smiled and nodded approvingly. “Now that is considerate of you.”

  Nimrod smiled and then took up his flute. Jubal wrote down the notes and had no concern about performing the Aaka of Ranking after seeing nothing change about Roddy’s appearance upon completion, and became even more confident when the Aakasear added, “Unlike Status, Ranking must be performed by the person to be assessed and must be used periodically. The tune can also be sung, whistled, or hummed by the individual. There is no trident to change colors as the individual’s potential increases and therefore no ongoing assessment.”

  An Instructor should know the strength of his potential, even if others did not. Jubal played the Melody on the Tubal-flute and could feel a tingling in his shoulders, which had to be caused by the assessment taking place. The moment he played the last note, light flashed through his silk cloak, a burning sensation stung his shoulders for an instant, and the conjuring stopped.

  Roddy sat frowning as if he had seen something he did not expect and thought might be a problem. “Did I do something wrong?” Jubal asked with no small concern. It was the first time he had been burned, even briefly, by performing a tune composed by the Aakasear.

  “Open your cloak and bare your shoulders,” Roddy replied, and then rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “There was only a single flash from my right shoulder when I first performed the Aaka.”

  Jubal hesitated, being a little apprehensive about what he would see, but then slipped the cloak back and pulled open the robe. On his right shoulder were two golden lightning bolts and a third rested on his left.

  “If you had performed Status, you would have a bronze trident on your forehead,” Roddy informed him in a tone suggesting he could not quite believe the result, especially when it meant his cousin could wield more potential than he.

  Jubal hoped the question he wanted to ask would not rub his friend’s ego the wrong way, but needed to know the answer, and then again was annoyed over having the permanent markings on his body.

  So what if the question bruised the ego of his trick-some chief?

  “Does this mean I have three times the potential as someone possessing a jade?”


  “Cousin, it does not work that way. The number is squared in comparison. You have nine times the power of a one bolt and it is the same compared to a jade trident. What I do not understand is how you could possibly be so much more powerful than me, seeing as we are the same age and often match each other in skill.”

  It was one of the rare times Nimrod admitted anyone equaled him in anything, much less exceeded; although what he stated had been true about the two of them all along. Often he was better at most things that counted to him as being noteworthy, but skill on the hunt, endurance, and strength were always a close assessment with him only slightly better at best.

  Jubal had not thought about the incident with the crocodile in days, about the time he created the first producer. “When I was out in the wilderness and trying to keep myself and little Rue alive, I levitated a crocodile far above the treetops, the reptile was struck by a lightning bolt, and the charge traveled down my beam and into my pool of energy. Perhaps this is why mine is so great. If there is another explanation, I do not know, but suspect we will learn as more Nephilim are assessed.”

  Roddy nodded his head. “We shall learn more. If your theory is correct, all I have to do to increase my status is levitate something into the sky during a storm and wait for it to be struck by lightning.”

  “And if I am incorrect, you will be dead,” Jubal cautioned his cousin. “At the time of the incident I thought I was going to die. It might be the Creator took pity on me and allowed me to survive my error in not adding a Da Capo.”

  The Aakasear frowned at the response but after a few moments smoothed out his face. “The experiment might be too risky. I will hold off on such a drastic means of increasing my potential. It might be my ability will grow quickly enough without my taking any chances.”

  A sense of relief flooded through Jubal at hearing the words. “Your current level of potential will grow as time goes on,” he spoke encouragingly, but did not mention his rank would increase as well, deciding not to allow annoyance to cloud his better judgement. “No matter what rank any Nephilim enjoys, he or she and even I can only be Aakacarns. Nimrod is the only Aakasear, the only source of powerful Aakas, and the one who will lead mankind into the future.”

  “Right you are,” Roddy voiced his agreement. He nodded and smiled. “Right you are.”

  Jubal waited for his friend to depart and then went for a stroll, feeling the need to walk off his growing irritation and having a desire to think about his rank and the fact that he now had golden lightning bolts on his shoulders, status symbols. “Roddy tricked me,” he stated under his breath.

  “Assess your strength in a different way, yet without displaying the result in such a fashion,” and, “no trident to change colors as the individual’s potential increases and therefore no ongoing assessment,” the Aakasear had said, giving the impression there would be no physical marks.

  “There is no bronze trident on my forehead, so it wasn’t a lie,” Jubal mumbled. “My lightning bolts are hidden by my clothes.”

  “Semi was right, I am trusting and easy to manipulate,” his thoughts continued along that line until they began to repeat and he reached a conclusion, while wandering aimlessly with no particular destination in mind. “What is done is done and there is no point fretting about it. I will warn Vashti ahead of time so she can make an informed decision.”

  “Instructor,” was on the lips of every elder and Nephilim so many of the Anakim and Tines followed their example as he moved through the crowd of people. They were respectful and he greeted them in kind. Young, old, tall or short of stature, one and all they called to him, a few even bowed or bobbed their heads as he passed by. The change in government and appointments with official titles left most folks uncertain how they should properly respond to the new stations. Even though he was not one of their leaders, anyone who could wield potential was given a certain amount of respect and deference, especially the one who taught the Nephilim how to summon and focus the power.

  All around him, in clusters without any semblance of order, were dwellings made of drift wood that had been left behind after the water receded. People used the branches and smaller trees to make temporary huts to live in until the exodus. The Cushites, those whose homes had been designed by Imhotep, still had houses to live in, and yet even most of them looked forward to living in Semidon.

  Overall the settlement looked nothing like what it had been before the flood waters came, being drab, smelly, and jumbled in appearance with little regard to spacing. There was not a single straight path to be found, forcing Jubal to weave his way through. Most people helped each other and the new government kept the peace, so the conditions around him barely intruded on his musings.

  As he walked, a feeling he had not experienced since during the storm started up, a tingle in his scalp, along with a profound sense of danger, and as the sensation began to build, the urge to allow Elevation to play in his mind drove all the other thoughts out of his head. He complied with the urge, bringing the Aaka to completion, and then added a Da Capo.

  He had not thought to bring one of his producers; such would not allow him to levitate himself, only other objects, so the lapse had no bearing on the situation. Perhaps he would make it a point to attach one in the folds of his cloak. The flicker of thought did not change the circumstances nor did it lessen in any way the warning tingle growing like an annoying itch just beyond reach.

  His eyes scanned the crowd as he held his Potential at the ready, although he could see no apparent danger, just throngs of people wishing him well, and yet the impulse to suddenly increase the volume of the tune and levitate straight up became a compulsion he dared not ignore any longer. Up he went, three times his height into the air, just as an arrow flew through the space he occupied only a moment before. Women screamed and men shouted, making it impossible to distinguish any other sounds. Some of them pointed up at Jubal while others ran away from the mayhem. It was pure chaos, but he had a very good view, and also made an excellent target.

  Chapter Ten: The Cost Of An Arrow

  The arrow had plunged deep into the shoulder of a young woman in a pale robe. Jubal did not know her name, but she had been one of those who had greeted him by title. His eyes went to her and then back the direction the arrow had to have originated. A hooded figure in a gray robe hastily shoved a bow into the folds of his cloak and began slipping deeper in to the crowd, some of whom must have seen what he had done, yet seemed to be purposely shifting to accommodate his getaway.

  Jubal raised his right hand, four beams of light shot out from each finger, striking and enveloping three men and behind them the one who had the bow. With an upward flick and twist of his wrist, all of them flew into the air and flipped upside down.

  He lowered the volume of the Melody in his head until his feet were back on the ground, but the men remained thirty cubits above the crowd. The robes settled about their upper bodies, covering their arms, shoulders, and heads, leaving four pairs of hairy legs and under garments in plain view. The bow dropped and people scattered just before it hit the ground. Jubal sent a beam from his left hand and levitated the weapon directly into his palm, then gripped it tightly.

  “Get her to Medica,” he commanded the fellow standing beside him while pointing with the bow at the injured woman.

  “At once, Instructor,” Fileeman replied, his eyes wide as if in terror of what he had just witnessed. Jubal had recognized the man, but was surprised by the use of the title, and the respectful tone.

  The incident happened in mere moments and so the fact that someone had just tried to kill Jubal took half a second more to settle in. Someone wanted him dead and some others wanted that man to get away with carrying out the evil deed. Why did they hate him so much?

  He did not have the answer, but had the culprit and three helpers to get the information from. All of them were Tinies and he recognized none of them, seeing as one pair of hairy legs looked much like the others. Unfortunately not all of the
helpers were caught. The three were the only ones he could isolate from the innocent bystanders who seemed to be truly shocked and alarmed by the violent attack, yet in the confusion it was impossible to distinguish which were genuine in their responses and which were acting. The situation was far from safe and in danger of getting much uglier.

  “Stone them!” a voice shouted from the crowd and other voices took up the cry.

  Hundreds of people were reaching toward the muddy ground. Digging up a stone would take time, which gave Jubal the opportunity to bring his captives closer to him. “There will be no stoning. I will question these men and then turn them over to Hades for judgment,” he announced in a tone he hoped would discourage argument.

  “That is a fate worse than stoning,” a short fellow over to the left remarked.

  “I would rather go before any judge than Hades,” the stout man beside him voiced the opinion and then shuddered.

  Hades’ appointment to the position happened only days earlier, yet people already feared to go before him. It was his macabre fascination with death and interest in digging up ancient things from before the flood that created the dread, which was why Jubal chose him over the other judges that were available.

  The man had the complete skeleton of the largest creature Jubal had ever seen, thirty cubits in length, and quite tall. It had a huge head with dagger-like teeth, two thick legs, a long tail, and tiny arms. The dead thing stood in the entranceway of the judge’s personal court, located in a dugout chamber below ground. Hades called the great beast a tyrant lizard. It was no wonder people did not want to face him in trial.

  As word passed through the crowd, men and women ceased their searches for stones and those who had managed to dig up rocks dropped them on the ground. A team of Weapocarns came running through the crowd, spears at the ready. All of them were Anakim. Orion, Cassiopeia, her husband Anak, and the darkly pretty Andromeda led three others. Malcus, Hercunus, and Constan were each thick-bearded, over a hundred years old, and very good at taking down dangerous predators. None of their skills had been used against people, but they certainly appeared ready to visit violence upon anyone who thought to test them.